


Turn You On, Turn You Up, Figure You Out

by Chash



Series: Bellarke AU Week [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Met on the Ark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy never thought he'd get to have a relationship, given the Octavia situation. But Clarke's used to getting what she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn You On, Turn You Up, Figure You Out

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Fool Might Be My Middle Name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093372) by [Chash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash). 



> This thing is pulling, like, triple duty, being an Ark AU for the first day of [Bellarke AU week](http://thatweirdparamedicstudent.tumblr.com/post/122456447012/hello-wonderful-bellarke-fandom-i-had-this-idea) (which I may not actually complete, but we can but try), a fill for a tumblr prompt, and Bellamy's POV on [The Fool Might Be My Middle Name](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4093372). You should probably read that first, because this basically just starts with a sex scene and no other context. LIKE YOU DO. Title from REM.

"So," says Clarke, once they've gotten the call from Raven that she and Octavia are safely home. She's still wearing her Unity Day dress, which is more than a little unfair. He's in his uniform, gross and sweaty with gel sticky in his hair, so of course she looks flawless. He has no idea what to do.

Or, well, okay. He has an entire galaxy of ideas, but he doesn't know how to start. He doesn't think he can start, because if he starts, he won't want to stop, and he knows he has to. This is not a possible thing.

"So," he says, trying not to fidget.

"Your sister says you talk about me all the time," she says, with a smug smile, and that's enough to make him crack, because--Clarke Griffin knows about his sister. She saved his sister. And all she's doing about it is teasing him because Octavia knows he has a crush on her. 

He crosses away from the door to kiss her. Her arms come up around him almost before his lips touch hers, just as eager. It's not a surprise, not really--she came to see _him_ for Unity Day, and she was jealous of Octavia--but it still feels monumental, like the entire station shifting beneath his feet, the entire _universe_.

"Wells is getting tired of hearing about you too," she murmurs, beaming to light up the whole room. Clarke isn't someone who beams, generally; she smiles, she laughs, she smirks _a lot_ , but she never looks so happy, and Bellamy honestly can't believe that he's responsible, that she's grinning like that just because he kissed her. She's _Clarke Griffin_ , she's as close to royalty as it gets, and she likes _him_.

"Clarke," he says, helpless. He doesn't even--it's almost too much. His hands twitch against her back, pulling her closer despite his best intentions. "This is a bad idea."

"It was your idea," she says, amused. "You kissed me first."

"I know. But--"

But this has been a bad idea right from the start. He shouldn't have started hanging out with Wick, wouldn't have, if Octavia hadn't put her foot down, told him he had better make some friends, or everyone would be even _more_ suspicious. As arguments went, it was weak, but there was another argument behind it, which was that Octavia didn't have a life, and never would, and Bellamy can, and she felt horrible knowing she was the reason he didn't.

And then Clarke had showed up, and she'd been all the things he'd never even let himself dream of having, beautiful and smart and sarcastic, like the incarnation of every selfish thought he'd ever had. Clarke Griffin is everything he could ever wanted that has nothing to do with Octavia, and he tries very hard to not want anything that isn't for his sister.

"Bellamy," Clarke says, gentle. She rubs her thumb against his neck, and he kisses her again, by accident. She laughs against his lips, tugging him closer, and says, "You get me, okay? I know about Octavia, and you can still have me."

"I can't," he says, nuzzling her neck, pressing his lips against her throat. "You know, but your parents don't, and your friends don't--"

"Raven and Wick do," she says, fingers going up to unbutton his shirt. "We'll figure it out."

"You're so spoiled," he murmurs, affectionate. "You always get what you want, don't you?"

"Always."

He rests his forehead against her shoulder. "I really want to."

"So come on," she says, tugging him gently. "We can figure everything else out later, okay? It's Unity Day, and I want to get laid."

It's impossible not to smile at that. Clarke Griffin is a horny eighteen-year-old, and she's dragging him to bed. "You do, huh?"

"You don't?"

"I do, I really do." He swallows hard. "It's just--it's impossible. We shouldn't do this."

"We can pretend it's just for tonight, if if makes you feel better," she says, and she sounds shy and miserable, and this is the last thing Bellamy wants.

He kisses her. "That's not what I want, Clarke. You know what I want." He looks down at her, gives up on fighting it. There's no way he can resist her. "I've never done this before," he finally says.

"I know. I know you can't always stay the night, or--"

"No, that's not--" He huffs. "I've never done _this_ ," he says, gesturing between them.

Her eyes widen, looking him up and down with disbelief. He tries very hard not to blush. It's not a big deal, most of the time. He just never really had the opportunity. He would have liked to, but if he wasn't with Octavia, she was alone, most of the time, and getting laid never seemed like something he was allowed to prioritize. He'd kissed a few girls, in school, but--he had too much to do, and it was too risky. It wasn't worth the chance that anyone might find out about his sister.

"Wow," she says, and pulls his shirt off. "Lucky me."

He snorts. "Yeah, lucky you. Everyone wants a twenty-three-year-old virgin who can't--"

She cuts him off with a kiss, pulling him on top of her in the bed. "You're great, shut up. And I get to teach you everything I like. You don't have any stupid ideas from other girls." Her fingers tighten on his bare back. "And you're all mine."

"I'm not," he reminds her, but he's smiling a little. "But for tonight, yeah." He slides his hand up her thigh, feeling the smoothness of her skin under his fingers. He's thought about this a lot, dreamed of it, so much it feels almost familiar, even as it's entirely new territory.

"I know. But--mine in all the ways I care about," she says, earnest. "I don't want to take you from your sister, Bellamy. I want to help." She grins up at him, wicked. "But I'm going to help tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he agrees. He trails his hand up her side. "Does this have a zipper or something?"

"Nope, too much hassle. I was going for easy removal." She sits up enough to tug the dress up and off, leaving her in her just her underwear, and his mouth goes dry.

He's seen actually quite a lot of women's underwear, especially given he's never actually seen any worn by a woman outside his immediate family. He used to help with repairs on plain pairs, while his mother would add embroidery and lace for extra rations on the side. Clarke's wearing that kind, the fancy kind, and he stops himself from trying to figure out if it's his mother's lacework. The bra has no straps, and her breasts are practically spilling out of it. The last thing he wants to be thinking about right now is his mother.

"Fuck," he says, leaning in to nuzzle between her breasts. She's so beautiful it's unreal, and she wants him. "Fuck, Clarke."

"I really wanted to make this happen tonight," she says, sliding her hand up into his hair, carding through the slicked down curls, making a mess of them. "I thought maybe if I dressed up you'd finally make a move."

"I wanted to, I really did," he says, pushing the bra down and pressing his open mouth against her breast, making her moan. "I want you so fucking much."

"I know," she says, and it makes him feel better, that she doesn't say he can have her. It's going to be hard, to have her.

But for tonight, at least.

"What do you like?" he asks, running his tongue over her skin, mostly because he needs to do _something_. "If you don't tell me, I'm just going to play with your breasts for hours."

"Hours, huh?" she teases, squirming. "I like this. I like, um--I usually sleep with girls, I like hands and mouths a lot. And I haven't sucked anyone's dick in a while."

He groans and grinds against her leg, and almost feels weird about it, except she grinds back, and then repositions them so he's pressed up right between her legs so she can rub up against him while he plays with her breasts.

"God, I like _you_ ," she says, with a breathless laugh. She pulls his mouth back up to hers, kissing him warm and deep. He slides his hand into her hair and grinds against her again. "Fuck." She fumbles and pushes his trousers and underwear off, and then licks her hand and wraps it around his dick.

"Clarke, if you--" He thrusts into her hand, helpless. "Don't do that, I'm going to embarrass myself." He doesn't have much experience, but he knows girls are generally disappointed if you come within two seconds of them getting their hands on you. But it's _Clarke_ , and her fingers are soft and deft and he wants this more than almost anything.

She laughs softly. "We'll be fine. You'll recover."

"Yeah, but--"

She rolls them over, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I want to get you off, Bellamy. A lot. I've got this, okay? Trust me, I'm going to take care of both of us."

Bellamy is kind of embarrassingly into Clarke taking charge, but given she's into it too, it seems stupid to argue with her. Besides, she's sliding down, but she hesitates before she actually takes him in her mouth. Which--just the sight of her mouth by his dick is making him squirm. He'd better survive tonight.

"Don't worry," she murmurs, with a secret little smirk. "You're not going to come until I tell you to."

It's not really a command as much as an observation, casual and confident. And he's sure she's right, which is--really hot.

"Jesus, Clarke," he breathes, sliding his hand into her hair. 

She flashes him a smile and leans down, taking him all the way into her mouth in one fluid motion. His hips try to jerk, but she has her arm holding him in place, ready for his reaction, and so he just slings his arm over his eyes and lets himself enjoy it.

And god, is it good. Bellamy's very familiar with the feel of his own hand, and it's fine. It gets the job done, and he knows what he likes. But Clarke's mouth is hot and wet, and she's making all these noises, like having his dick in her mouth is just as good for her as it is for him. Clarke Griffin _likes_ sucking dick.

They're going to do this again. They have to. He cannot just get this once.

It's not even that difficult, not coming. Clarke told him not to, and he's not going to disappoint her. And it's fucking hot, thinking she's going to approve it sometime, that he'll come on her command.

Apparently he's got kinks he never even knew about. Clarke somehow did, though. And she's into it too.

His control nearly gives out when she pulls off with a wet sound, and then again when she smiles at him, mouth red and swollen, but he takes a few breathes and holds on. Her grin widens.

"Bell," she says, affectionate, and climbs back up to kiss him. She tastes different, surprisingly familiar, and he kisses back hard, desperate.

"You're amazing," he says, and she laughs and slides her hand down to wrap around him again.

"I'm glad you like bossy," she teases. "Do you want to come?"

He slides his hand down to push off her underwear. "I want to touch you," he says, honestly, and she grins and kisses him again.

"You're cute." She nudges her nose against his. "You can touch me. Hands are good, get me ready."

He swallows hard because--it's been pretty easy for him up to this point, even without direct experience. But using his fingers, that's going to be tougher.

"Don't worry," she says, tugging him back so he's on top of her again. "I'll tell you what to do if you get stuck."

"Bossy," he says, fond, and she grins at him.

"Bossiest."

She's wet and hot, and it makes Bellamy flush with pride, knowing he did this to her, that she's so turned on because of him. 

He presses his mouth against her neck again, rubs her experimentally, dipping his fingers inside her. She pushes back at once, taking him deeper, fucking _eager_ , and he obliges, sliding two fingers all the way inside her, trying to open her up a little. She did say she needed to get ready.

Clarke laughs breathlessly, brings her hand down to touch his, getting his thumb and moving him so he can rub it over what must be her clit. She makes a contented noise as her hand drops. "Yeah, that's good. Just like that."

He laughs softly, nipping her neck gently. "That's it?"

"You're getting a lot of help from genetics," she says, squirming. "Your hands are perfect." She bites her lip. "Crook your fingers up a little, like--" He changes his angle, and she gasps. "Fuck, right there, yeah."

She tugs him up and kisses him again, and they make out until she comes apart on his fingers, which is one of the more gratifying things to have happened in his entire life. He tries to pull back, but she catches his wrist, so he keeps going as she gets off, and after she lets out a long breath.

"Okay, awesome. Fuck me."

He laughs. "Seriously?"

"Mmm," she agrees, stretching. "You're not nervous, are you?"

"I just didn't think you'd, uh, enjoy it. Right after."

"I will," she assures him. "Girls get to come a lot. It's awesome. And I fucking want you in me."

He laughs, kisses her, and lines himself up, careful. She's so slick, he slides in with no trouble at all, and he has to stop for a second, once he's bottomed out, just to collect himself. "Fuck," he breathes.

She kisses his temple. "Just go for it when you're ready," she says. 

He starts off slow, trying to get the feel of it, figure out the angle, see what feels good for her, because fucking _everything_ is good for him. She wraps her legs around him and pulls, making him speed up, setting the pace herself, and he gasps out a laugh.

"So fucking bossy."

"At least you know I'm getting what I want." She tangles her hand in his hair, taking her nails against his scalp. "Come whenever you want, by the way. You're doing so well, you earned it."

It should possibly be weird, the praise, but instead it's just hot.

"Gonna get you off again first," he says, and she laughs.

"Good boy," is all she says, and she guides his hand back to her clit.

It doesn't take her long, thank god, and he comes almost as soon as he does, orgasm so intense it's almost painful. She keeps on petting his hair, absent, as he pulls out and flops down next to her, and once he's settled, she kisses him.

"Good?" she asks. "Not too much?"

"Good," he says, winding his arms around her.

"You should stay," she adds. "It's after curfew."

He worries his lip, but--Octavia knows where he is. She's home and safe. And he's in Clarke's bed, with Clarke naked and sated and curled around him. He's not sure he's even capable of leaving.

"Yeah," he agrees, nuzzling her hair. "I'll stay."

*

She sucks him off again before she leaves for the clinic, and he drags himself through her shower and then heads home, feeling a little sheepish. Octavia is old enough to know what happened, but he can't help feeling like it was too selfish of him. At least she had a nice night, too. A party, new friends, and company that wasn't him. He did plenty of good for her.

He lets himself in and raps twice quickly on the floor panel, and then once more, their _all clear_ signal.

"Hey," she says, grinning at him.

He's been grinning all morning and is powerless to stop now. "Hey."

Octavia rolls her eyes. "You are so lucky it's your day off today, everyone would think you were, I don't even know. You so obviously got laid."

"Shut up," he says, without heat. "Was getting home okay? With the vents?"

"There's about as much room as in the floor," she says, with a dismissive roll of her eyes. "It was fine. I like your friends. Raven and Wick are cool."

"Yeah, they're okay."

"And Clarke is obviously great."

"Obviously." He worries his lip. "We can't do anything really serious," he admits. "Her mom is on the council, she's way too high-profile. I'd get too much attention."

"That's bullshit."

He thinks she might be right, but he can't stop worrying about it. What would happen if her parents wanted to see his place, if her mother started looking into him and found out he's been sneaking extra rations. They'd float him and float O without a second thought. They might even float Clarke, but they'd have to think about that one, at least. She might make it.

"It's too risky," he says. "For all of us."

"You don't think she's going to just give up on you, do you?"

The goofy smile is back; he can't help it. "No," he admits. "I know she won't."

"You're ridiculous," says Octavia, and then, soft, "I hope you guys can figure it out."

"Yeah," he admits, ruffling her hair. "Me too."

*

Clarke comes over after work, looks horrified when Bellamy raps on the floor and Octavia comes out.

"That's where you live?"

Octavia shrugs. "Gotta live somewhere."

"Okay, well, I checked precedent," she says, all business. "There have been a bunch of recorded cases of implant malfunctions resulting in second children, but only three resulted in children being born and kept in secret. The rest were terminated."

Bellamy and Octavia exchange a look. "You researched this?" he asks.

"I know you're doing your best, but this is no way for her to live, and I think she doesn't have to."

Anger flares in Bellamy, sudden and red-hot. "What gives you the right to--"

"To try to help your sister?" Clarke snaps, and he deflates a little. It's hard to argue with that.

"We'd be floated," he tells her.

"Your mother would have been floated," she corrects. "No one has ever been floated for having a younger sibling, even when they were shown to be complicit in hiding their siblings' existence." She hands him a file. "The official ruling has always been that anyone involved under eighteen is not at fault."

"Neither of us is under eighteen," Bellamy points out.

"You were for the actual crime. Not even the Ark expects a five-year-old boy to rat out his mother for having a second child, Bellamy. I think it's unlikely that you'd be punished at all. Octavia is--a little riskier, but I think history is on her side."

"Clarke--"

"Second children are usually put in the Skybox," she continues briskly, ignoring him. "But they're not actually charged with an official crime. Honestly, I think it's just that no one wanted to deal with them. Their parents are dead, siblings aren't usually old enough to become caretakers. No one's ever been kept a secret as long as Octavia has been." Clarke offers his sister a smile, and Octavia smiles back, looks _hopeful_. He's torn between wanting to murder Clarke and wanting to kiss her. "All of the kids who got put in the Skybox for being born were pardoned at eighteen, if they made it that long." She worries her lip. "Most of them don't make it too long after that. They were poorly socialized and just committed actual crimes when they got out. But--Octavia's good."

"And why won't they just float her?"

"They don't have a reason--"

"They don't need a reason! You know how many kids from around here get pardoned? Hell, I can't believe they let Spacewalker go." He rubs his face. "We're not like you, Clarke. We don't get favors."

"You don't," she agrees, soft, surprising him. "But I do. You're not the one who would be asking for a favor."

He stares at her. "What?"

"I'd ask my dad, make sure he thought it would work, that we could make the argument. He would never say a word, Bellamy, even if he thought it wouldn't work. He's not on the council; he doesn't have an obligation to report it. You could trust him to stay quiet and help."

"No."

"So you're going to make her live under your floor? Forever?"

"Make her?" he asks, furious. " _Make her_? I'm fucking protecting her, if she--"

"They wouldn't hurt Bell?" Octavia cuts in. Her voice is so soft he's amazed he hears her, but he's been listening for the smallest signs of his sister for almost his entire life. "Just me?"

"No one has even been floated for having a sibling. Two got put in the Skybox and pardoned at eighteen. One was over eighteen, she wasn't accused of anything." She risks a glance at him. "Nothing would happen to Bellamy."

His jaw works, and he grabs her arm, drags her to his room. "Stay here, O," he snarls.

Clarke is all defiance when he closes the door, and it would probably be hot, under other circumstances.

"What do you think is going to happen here?" he demands. "This isn't a story with a happy ending, Clarke."

"You don't know that! I think there's about a seventy-five-percent chance they pardon her. Twenty-five percent they float her. Five percent they float you. One percent they float me while they're at it."

"And you think that risk is worth it?"

"I think you should decide," she says. She's calm, eerily calm, and he kind of wishes she was yelling too, so he wouldn't feel like he's being unreasonable. "I think you two deserve to have all the facts. And the fact is, if I'm involved in this, Octavia has a very good chance of surviving it." She looks at him, eyes unreadable. "I know I live in a different world than you do, a lot of the time. But--you can use that. I can help."

"And if you can't?" He runs his hand through his hair. "You should have told me first. You shouldn't--not with Octavia here."

"It's her life," Clarke snaps. "She's eighteen. It's her decision too. You don't get to make this choice for her. And I don't get to make it for you."

She sounds wistful, to his surprise, and he feels some of the anger drain out of him. "What would you do?" he asks.

"Honestly, I don't know," she says. "I--I'd want to do it, because you know as well as I do, this isn't a life, Bellamy. You did everything you could, you did a good job, but this isn't a life."

He deflates, sags against her. "They might kill her."

"It's her life. It's her choice to take that risk." Her hand finds his, squeezes. "Both of your choices. It's your life too. But--I'll go to bat for you. And if I can get my mom on your side--"

"And if you can't?"

"If I can't, there are still other votes in the council, and there's still a decent amount of precedent that says Octavia won't float for this. But it's her decision, and you need to let her decide."

"It's twenty-five percent my decision," he grumbles, but he's never worried over his own life. He worried about his mother, and then she died anyway, left them alone, and all he had to worry about was keeping Octavia safe. But the older she gets, the less safe even matters.

"Whatever you guys decide, I'll do everything I can," she says, and it's strange to know he believes her. That he has someone he trusts, really trusts, to do her best for Octavia.

"We'll talk about it," he says. "I'll--try to let her decide."

" _Try_ ," Clarke says, fondly amused. She pecks him on the lips, quick, affectionate, and it makes him ache. If Octavia wasn't a secret anymore, he could have Clarke too. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone finding out about her. He could just--date Clarke Griffin, without worrying about anyone paying too much attention to him.

It can't be a part of his decision. It's not going to be.

*

"How influential do you think Clarke is?" he asks Wick the next morning. Wick tends to work bizarre hours because--well, Bellamy doesn't know. Wick is fucking weird, mostly. It means they do get a lot of private time, when Bellamy is assigned to engineering. It's sort of nice; social interaction without feeling guilty for abandoning Octavia.

"At what?"

"Everything."

"I have no idea," he says, tinkering with something. "Pretty? Her mom's a big deal. Why? Worried about meeting the parents?"

He rubs his face. "She offered to, uh. Try to help me. With my, uh--family thing."

Wick sobers. "Oh. _Oh_. With the council?"

"Yeah. It's--she thinks she's got a pretty good chance, but if it doesn't work, then--"

"It's a big fucking deal," Wick supplies.

"Yeah."

Wick's quiet for a while, thoughtful. "What are your other options?"

"We've been fine like this," he says, but he knows it's not _really_ true. They've both survived, but Octavia deserves a life, and--he might too, honestly.

"What's, uh--have you talked to your family?"

"She wants to," he says. "She thinks it's worth it. But--I don't know."

Wick claps him on the shoulder. "I can make airlocks malfunction, no problem. Buy some time, beat up some guys. We can make that happen. Fake it. I don't know. I'll come up with a contingency plan. Between me and Reyes, there's nothing on this whole damn ship we can't fix."

Bellamy laughs. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Weirdly, it really does make him feel better. "I'll keep you posted."

*

In the end, it's that Octavia wants to do it. Bellamy can't argue with that; it's O's life, and O thinks it's worth it. And Bellamy thinks if they float her, he'll just tell them to float him too, because he doesn't know what the rest of his life would look like, without her. So either way, he'll be done. And there's something like relief in knowing that. Her whole life, he's been looking over his shoulder, and it's staggering to think he might get to stop that.

He meets Clarke when she finishes with work, three days after they first discussed it, and she takes him back to her quarters, where her father is waiting. To have dinner with them.

"Did you really have to combine this with me having dinner with your dad? It's stressful enough without--that."

"My mom's busy, so she's not going to be suspicious. We usually have dinner together when she's at meetings, I just told him I was bringing my boyfriend."

Bellamy feels himself flush. "Your boyfriend?"

"You are," she says, firmly, and takes his hand for good measure.

"I might be dead by next week."

Her eyes flash, and Clarke feels dangerous for the first time, deadly, even. "I'd like to see them try."

Jake Griffin is tall and broad, with an open, friendly smile, and he shakes Bellamy's hand with a firm grip that isn't at all threatening. "It's very nice to meet you, Clarke's told me a lot about you," he says, and Bellamy even believes him.

"It's nice to meet you as well, sir."

"Oh, he's polite," Mr. Griffin tells Clarke, amused. "Very impressive."

"He's very polite," Clarke says, giving him a fond smile. She takes his hand and squeezes it; Clarke's not one to stall. "But we actually had something else we needed to talk to you about."

"Are you pregnant?"

"You're going to wish I was pregnant." She wets her lips, glances at Bellamy, looks back at her father. "Bellamy has a sister."

Mr. Griffin lets out a harsh breath, looking between the two of them. "A sister," he repeats, looking at Bellamy.

"Yes, sir."

"How old?"

"Eighteen. A few months younger than Clarke."

"You kept your sister a secret for _eighteen years_?" he asks. He sounds almost impressed. It's weird, to say the least; it's always been an accomplishment, that Octavia made it this long, but he doubted anyone else would ever acknowledge that.

"My mother told me it was my responsibility."

"She died two years ago," Clarke supplies. "He father was never in the picture. Do you know who he was?"

Bellamy nearly flinches, but there's no judgement in her voice; Clarke's in business mode, all laser-focus on solving the problem of his sister's life. "No, no idea."

"So there are no parents left to punish. Precedent would put her in Skybox, but she's eighteen. They've never floated a child just for being born. It's not even technically a crime."

Mr. Griffin lets out a long breath. "Clarke, this is--"

"She lives under the _floor_ ," she says. "How much longer can that last? How much longer can she live like that? If they get caught, it's a crime. If they come clean, it's a confession. We control the story."

"And you want to come clean?" Mr. Griffin asks him.

"My sister does, sir." He wets his lips. "It's like Clarke said. She lives under the floor. It's--she doesn't think she has much to lose."

Mr. Griffin rubs his jaw. "So we would tell your mother, she would tell the council. This might not be a precedent they want to set, Clarke."

"It's not a new precedent," she says. "It's the old one. The only difference is that Octavia made it past eighteen. And, honestly, anyone who lives that long without being found deserves to keep living."

Mr. Griffin smiles at that. "I don't disagree with you, I'm telling you what your mother will say." He glances back at Bellamy. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"A little old for Clarke."

"Really, Dad?" she asks. "We're talking about his sister's life, here. You can ask about our relationship once she's out of the floor."

"I intend to," he says, but he sounds almost cheerful, and Bellamy thinks, for the first time in his entire life, that something might work out in his sister's favor.

*

Clarke sets up the new quarters while Bellamy takes Octavia to get her first-ever medical checkup (she's fine, thank god), and then takes her on a tour of the entire Ark, letting her see _everything_. He can't stop smiling, watching her run around, look out every window, even though the view is always the same. She smiles at people, chats with strangers, bounces around everywhere she goes, and it's the best day of his entire fucking life.

When they get to their new place, it already looks like home. What little stuff they had is there, and Clarke has added some other things--books, a few blankets, old furniture, some art on the walls. Octavia's room is the nicest; Clarke drew her a window, looking out onto trees, and Octavia hugs her so hard she nearly knocks her over.

Octavia has _a bed_. She has a room, all her own.

"Fuck," says Bellamy, looking down at Clarke helplessly. "I am never going to be able to thank you enough. I can't--I don't--"

"You will," she says, confident, and leans up to press her lips against his. "You'll figure something out."

"I really can't," he says.

"I'm pretty sure I love you," she says, leaning against his side. "So--it's already worth it. Just for the look on your face."

They watch an old vid Clarke brought and have enough food for everyone to eat--more than enough, for the first time ever. Clarke falls asleep on his shoulder, and he's pretty sure he loves her too. And he knows, with certainty, that he's going to keep her.

"I like your girlfriend, Bell," Octavia says, soft, and he smiles.

"Yeah. I like my girlfriend too."


End file.
